Sunrise
by ScarletttheLazyWriter
Summary: a one-shot set eighty or so years after the True Pacifist ending in which Frisk and Flowey have a chat while they wait for the sun to rise. CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS.


He wasn't quite sure why he had answered. Maybe he was curious. Maybe it was because it would provide something new, if only briefly and mundanely. Regardless, here he was, answering the beck and call of their letter. Here he was, at the base of a hill, moonlight and stars illuminating the sky and wind barely moving around him, staring at the aged figure of the human he hadn't seen in several decades.

"Hi, Frisk."

"Hello, Flowey."

Their voice was weak and raspy, most of it stolen away by age, which they had accumulated in great supply. The once small human now stood much taller, skin wrinkled and creased like sand moved by the ocean's waves. Their frame was hunched just slightly, as if their shoulders were in a constant attempt to reach down and hug the ground. Honestly, it wouldn't surprise him if they actually _were_ trying to. The one quality that never seemed to have faded from them, other than the fact that he still couldn't pinpoint their gender, was their extreme capacity for kindness, and so should someone tell him their shoulders had managed to make contact with the ground and offer affection, it wouldn't surprise him in the least.

"So, uh, what's this gift you wanna give me?" He asked, not really sure how to make a conversation, nor really having any desire to do so.

"Would you like to climb the hill with me?" They asked, ignoring his question.

"No, not really." He rolled his eyes. "Just the gift will do, thanks."

Again, his words might as well have been spoken to the open air. Slowly, shakily, Frisk began to make their way up the hill, looking over ever so often to see if Flowey intended to follow.

"You're gonna fall and kill yourself, you know." He called, then smirked. "It will be fun to watch." Frisk just laughed. Flowey sighed. Their kindness was insufferable. He had heard and saw reports throughout the years of their efforts to make the world "better" and "more loving." It made him want to vomit. Still, it didn't bring back any of his homicidal desires of many years ago. It seems those had all but faded when he pleaded with that odd being to not reset the timeline. It was odd, but he didn't give it much thought. Just one more feeling down the tubes, he supposed, and he didn't have many of those to spare. Not that he could muster the will to care anymore.

The climb was a quick one for him (as he, well, didn't climb, but rather teleported), and he stared back down the hill at the elderly human, who had only managed to get halfway up it so far. "Climb faster, old fart!" He shouted, laughing at how wobbly their steps were. "I think you left your blinker on." He taunted, gaining only a small head shake in response. He grumbled. It was far more enjoyable when people responded the way he wanted them to, and Frisk had never been good at doing that. Finally, after what must have been a good five minutes or so, Frisk made it to the top of the hill and walked a little ways ahead of Flowey and sank their tired body against the base of a tree. Flowey came to stand next to them. Their labored breath was audible and the small trip had taken a toll on them, but they smiled nonetheless.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Their voice was breathy and filled with wonder, which Flowey found grating. How was it that the simple sight of Mount Ebott in the distance could make them so happy? It was annoying and, worse, he envied them. He wished he could feel so strongly about something so mediocre. As it was, he grunted, his vocal equivalent of a shrug. "I'll never forget the time I spent there." Wonder turned to nostalgia and he watched the corners of their mouth crinkle upwards. "Making friends, exploring-"

"Kicking my ass." He said somewhat bitterly.

"Did you know Papyrus opened up a spaghetti restaurant with Sans?" They said, once again ignoring him.

"No. I didn't know that. And I don't care."

"Undyne runs a gym now. I wish I had that sort of vitality." They laughed. "It's always amazed me how long monsters last. I'm very grateful for that, even if I can't say the same for myself." There was no sadness in that statement, despite what it implied.

"How long 'til you kick the bucket, anyway?" He asked. "You're old as dirt."

They guffawed at that. Honestly, how the hell did they find pleasure in the stupidest things? "Ah, not long. This ol' ticker of mine has almost run out, but that's okay. I've had a good life and wonderful friends. Why, we all got together and spent an entire week at mom's house a few days ago." He flinched at the term "mom." Frisk had chosen to stay with Toriel and, it seemed, hadn't minded using that label for her.

"Gonna suck for her, eh?" He said. "After all, she gets to watch you die, and she gets to remember you for, what, forever?"

"Mmm. Maybe."

"What's that supposed to mean? She can't age without a kid for her power to flow into." It was almost funny. He would love to see the agony on her face when she found out her last "child" was gone.

"Well, nothing's set in stone." They plucked a few pieces of grass and fiddled with them.

"What, you think her and the old goat'll have another kid or something?" For some reason, the thought stung momentarily.

"I mean, we don't necessarily know what will happen next." They blew the pieces from their hands like a kiss to no one (or everyone, knowing them). "Do you remember way back then? When you got the human souls?"

"You rubbing it in that you beat me? The damned things rebelled. Not that it mattered, anyway." He replied. They were the only two who even knew of the incident, which was fine by him, since it had ultimately been a huge failure.

"I meant after that. After I reset time. Remember what happened then?" They gave him a patient, sympathetic look.

"You mean that whole goatboy thing? What of it?"

"Well, it just shows there can be different outcomes to absorbing souls, yeah?" They smiled. "Do you remember how it felt?"

"Uh. . ."

"I wonder. What was it that let you feel again? Was it the monster souls? The human souls? Or maybe it was having a soul at all, then having someone bring those emotions to the surface."

"What are you. . ."

"I don't know if you can remember those feelings, but I remember seeing them on your face. Pain, regret, sorrow. And, do you remember what you felt after that incident I reset? You looked like you wanted to cry." Their voice was gentle and sweet with no trace of mockery for his moments of weakness he had gone through.

"What's the point of. . ."

"You felt something. Even then, when you didn't have a soul, you were able to feel something that brought tears to your eyes."

He could feel something, alright. He could feel himself getting angry. Over what, he wasn't sure. "So what?"

"I've thought to myself what would happen if someone could fill that missing part of you. That part the human and monster souls were able to fill. What would happen if, say, someone could give you the ability to love again? To feel compassion? Would you want that?" For the first time, he noticed their voice growing weaker. It was becoming more and more of an effort for them to speak. He felt a knot somewhere inside him. He should have been able to brush off the question, he really should have, but it lingered, like a painful burn. Even now, even after all this time, it seemed like he still wanted to be able to find out what those feelings felt like. He wouldn't admit it, normally, but, as was apparent, the old prune wasn't long for this world, so it wasn't like they could nark on him.

"I would." His voice cracked and he cursed himself under his breath. "It's all just wishful thinking, though." His words barely came out as a whisper.

"Maybe not." They reached out a hand to console him. He hadn't realized he had begun to cry. He avoided their touch. "After all, I've been told amazing things happen when you have enough determination, and there's something I've been determined to do for awhile." He looked up at them. They were smiling at him, their expression hopeful.

"You don't seriously mean. . .I mean. . .you know what could happen, don't you?" His voice shook. Since when was he such a sap? Maybe years on the surface had made him go soft.

"I do, and that's why I want to do this." Clearly, they were more optimistic than he was. "Even if the outcome isn't what I'd like, I know everything will be okay. I've heard Sans can be quite a go-getter when he wants to be. He'd keep you in line if things get out of hand." Well, he couldn't argue with that. Unlike them, he had seen first-hand what San's "go-getting" could do. "And you. I'm sure I would've heard of any mischief you caused over the years. I think you've changed for the better, so there's that."

There was a long pause where only the crickets spoke, the breeze barely making any noise. He tossed the thought back and forth in his mind. Frisk's soul was undeniably more powerful than most, and he had never gotten to experience its power firsthand. Really, who knew what it could do? There was a tiny, idiotic part of him that wanted to find out.

"Are you sure?" He whispered. This time, when they reached out their hand, he didn't pull away. They nodded.

"I've lived my life, Asriel. Now it's time for you to live yours." He let them stroke his petals gently with their soft, wrinkled hand. Their words had grown even quieter and it had taken more breaths to finish even one sentence. They had known. Maybe with someone else's help, or maybe with their own intellect, they had know that, once they climbed that hill, they wouldn't be climbing back down. They really were stupid, but here he was, standing beside them as they breathed heavily, stupidly hoping with them that their little plan would work the way they wanted. The way they both wanted. He scooted closer to them, listening as their breath became slower, more rhythmic. He yawned. Neither of them said anything. There was nothing left to say. Well, maybe one thing.

"Thanks." He mumbled, the word sounding foreign coming from his mouth. He hoped that that wouldn't be the case for long. He got a grunt and a tired, weak voice in reply.

"Take care of mom for me."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

He opened his eyes to see a gray, dimly lit sky above him. He wasn't sure when he had fallen asleep, but he noticed that he had manged to fall over onto Frisk's now-still chest. He blinked away the blurriness and looked up at their face. Though drained of color, it held a small, content smile. Within their body, something was still stirring, warm and gentle, yet strong and determined. He reached out to it, letting its warmth soak into his body, filling him from petal to root. The world dipped and swayed, the colors dancing, forming and unforming, bursting and blooming and spinning and singing. He could feel something within him begin to move, though what it was he was still unsure. Whatever it was, it was growing, moving, coming alive, like some sort of rusted machine that had been given life again. He had known Frisk had possessed a powerful soul, but he had had no idea it was this powerful. Years of doing what they did best had kept it strong, perhaps even stronger than it had been when he encountered it all those years ago.

The world soon came back into focus, the colors returning to their proper places and the sound of birds drifting softly in the morning air. Under the tree, Frisk's body slept peacefully, the wind stroking their hair softly, as if the world itself was thanking them for all they had done. He felt his throat tighten. _Thank you._ He turned back to look at the sun casting its light over Mount Ebott, the sky slowly but surely being dyed beautiful shades of gold and pink.

It really was a lovely sunrise.


End file.
